


We Got a Skin on Skin Thing, Baby

by neogenesis85



Series: Happiness Is a Warm Gun Verse [3]
Category: Death Sentence (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neogenesis85/pseuds/neogenesis85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tries not to be a minute man, but damn if she doesn't make swooning over her hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Got a Skin on Skin Thing, Baby

It isn't something Billy's supposed to admit to liking. Some sort of universal man code that automatically throws you into the dreaded 'Pussy Zone' if you even hint at committing the act out of your own pleasure. Which is ironic, all things considering.

But fuck if it doesn't feel good to know he's walking around with his girl's juices drying on his face, the smell of her sex and eucalyptus body lotion lingering in the air, while the gang is wondering why he's got such a self-satisfied smirk on this lips.

He can't tell them that an hour ago he had his head buried between Lady's legs, her blunt nails digging the right kind of hurt into his scalp, as she climaxed with a mumble of Haitian creole and tight muscles.

They wouldn't get it even if he wants to explain. Growing up in their world women, (except for mothers and sisters, and even they can be expendable), are just a means to an end. And most of their 'means' is to get off and get out of dodge.

Though when it's just him and her, and she's bending over to step out of her underwear and he sees just a hint of trimmed hairs peeking between her brown thighs, he can't help but loose his head a little.

This time he has her on knees and elbows, ass hanging off the side of the bed just enough that he can sit on the floor with his back to her and wrap his arms around her hips, all the while plastering his mouth to her core.

It's the perfect angle. Right enough that he can tilt his head back and find that spot with his tongue that never fails to make her relax control of the undulation of her body. It keeps his nose brushing against her clit while her wetness, her musk floods his taste buds. And he loves all of it. Loves trying to catch his breath while she's grinding against him. Loves it when she trembles and how her feet twitch when he tickles their soles. Loves it when the neighbors are banging on the walls to tell them to keep it down.

Sometimes he can get off on this alone, coming in his boxer's like 13-year old without doing anything more than unzipping his pants to make room for his hard-on. All because of the noises she makes and how it feels like the fingers he's got buried knuckle deep in her are in a vise.

He tries to slow things down after that. Pulls back and turns around, eyeing her backside as he stands to push down his jeans and kick them off. She's still so damn wet though, writhing on the bed because he didn't finish her off, her eyes clinched shut and face pressed against the bedspread. He can't help himself by reaching out and running his hand over her bottom before traveling to move his fingers through her damp pubic curls, revealing the pink hidden beyond. Her whole body jerks when he circles his thumb across her clit, and presses slightly.

She moans at the contact, pushing hard against his ministrations. He keeps at it long enough just to tease her before moving away to find a condom in the drawer of her night-stand. It takes him a few seconds because he can't seem to keep his eyes off her while he's searching for it. When he finally gets the foil package and turns back, she's got a hand between her legs trying to finish off what he started.

"Damn it, Jeanne," he growls as he grabs her wrist tight enough to stop her movement and thinks about sliding her wet fingers into his mouth to clean them off. But she protests with a curse and pushes herself up by her free arm just enough to brush against his erection and he forgets about a second taste.

"Billy," She huffs, rotating her hips against him and making him grit his teeth.

He wants to make this last. He wants to make it good for her. But the way she is moving is making it hard.

Grabbing her by the hip, he pulls her closer in one fast move, relishing in the sound of his pelvis hitting her rear in a loud smack as his length slides across her slick folds. He repeats the movement a few more times, heady with the feel of their unprotected flesh rubbing together. But is isn't enough.

Apparently it isn't for her either, because she looks back over her shoulder and demands, "What the hell are you waiting for?"

He lets her go long enough to get the condom wrapper open. It's the one time all night that she sits still, giving him a clear view of her curved back as he roles the latex on, her almost black eyes watching eagerly the whole time. She licks her bottom lip when he's done and that's when knows the teasing game is up.

Moving so his knees are on the bed beside hers, he grabs her by the hips again as she reaches between their spread legs to position his dick. It doesn't take much, one push and he's there. And, shit, if they don't groan in unison.

He tries to keep the pace by holding her by shoulders, but she arches her back enough to wrap her arms around his neck, pushing against his thrusts which throws off their whole rhythm. Her breast bounce with every move of their bodies, so he uses them as leverage, pinching her nipples every so often to make her tighten around his length.

He knows he isn't going to last much longer. By the way her inner muscles are fluttering around him he knows she's close, but not quite there. He lets go of one breast to slid his fingers up into her hair and get a good grip. A firm yank and her head is tilted back enough that his mouth is caressing her ear.

"Baby." He breathes out, and he knows she hates that endearment but he just doesn't give a damn at this point. "Touch yourself."

He punctuates the demand with a deft twist of his hips that leaves her gasping. A few seconds later and her fingers are dancing around where they are joined, and he thinks maybe it was a bad idea because he can feel them as he slides in and out of her. He tongues the erratic pulse at her throat, trying to distract himself long enough to let her get hers, sucking hard when that doesn't work. The sound of their skin slapping together gets more frantic and he's just about out of his mind with all of this.

"Oh, come on!" he says, frustrated because he's lost control of everything and she's the only one that makes him like this every time. She knows his limits, though. And not a moment too soon her whole body jerks and muscles got taunt. She's finally there, whispering his name and guete over again like a mantra before she loosens her hold on his neck, falls out of his hands, and collapses onto the bed.

He pauses, always fascinated by by how tight she gets when she comes and how gorgeous she looks trembling around him with quiet, desperate pants escaping her parted lips. He doesn't know where their messed up relationship is going, or if it even is going. He's an unfaithful, sexist bastard with a possessive side that's a mile wide and she's probably right when she calls him a sociopath.

But in moments like this, he's truthful enough to admit that if he could give everything else up without a world of trouble coming after him, he would. Just so that they could be. Because looking at her lying there, prone and unguarded, was pure poetry. And nothing in his long life feels as good as the high he gets from making sure she's fulfilled.

Grabbing her hips again, he tilts her rear up enough to slid in a little deeper and goes for the home stretch. He knows she's exhausted, but all it takes is a few clumsy lunges and he's gone. Head bowed, he holds her tight to him, digging so hard into her sides that she would have bruises if her skin wasn't so dark. He feels sweat dripping down his nose and when the spots dancing across his vision finally clear, he can see the drops landing on inked skin at the small of her back.

The last of his energy goes towards pulling out and falling onto the bed next to her with a drawn out groan. He throws his arm across his eyes, blocking out the water stains on her ceiling as he tries to catch his breath. He should toss the used rubber and check on her, but his muscles are rubbery and he's hands are shaking in the aftermath of it all.

He doesn't know how long they lay there like that, barely touching, as the staccato of his heart beat slowly dies down. Eventually the bed shifts some and her hand lands on his stomach, rubbing softly through the trail of hair there. He turns his head to find her staring at him, one brow raised and a frown barely hiding at the corner of her lip.

He sits up, using his elbow as a prop, "What?"

"You never gave me a proper hello."

He thinks back and realizes, yeah, he never did. He came over just to see her and maybe raid her fridge as she studied her medical text books. But she'd just come back from to gym with sweat still clinging to her skin and started pulling off her workout clothes on her way to the bedroom. That's all it took for his libido to go into over drive and things just snowballed thereafter.

"Shit. Come 'ere," he mutters while reaching over to pull her onto his chest before pressing his mouth to hers. She melds against his body and the weight and feel of her is making him get his second wind. Their tongues move together in that familiar way as he strokes her still heated skin and hopes to god neither of their phones start ringing.

She pulls back long enough to straddle his waist, grinning down at him as she rubs against his groin, "Well hello to you too, Darley."

He sits up so they're face to face and all he can think about are more condoms and how he's so damn lucky to get some of the best of her. Even more so when she seems to read his mind and reaches back into the still open night-stand drawer.


End file.
